Fated Encounters

James doesn’t know what happened. This morning they were screaming from their separate beds about misplaced quills and flirty fourth years, but when James entered the Marauders dorm that night after dinner, he found something else altogether.

Sirius and Remus were intertwined like vines climbing up stone walls. Something so soft and intimate seemed so out of place in their prankster headquarters. It also seemed like something James shouldn’t be seeing.

They looked to him when the door noisily swung open, he looked between both of them, and sent them a classic James Potter smile that came straight up from his heart. He was elated for them. But he was not going to stick around. He knew better than that.

James wordlessly grabbed the map from Sirius’ bed, thankfully the one closest to the door. He then pointed to the empty corridor behind him and nodded as if to say “I’ll be going now.”

He smiled all the way to the library. Best to get a little studying done, now that he doesn’t have to worry about going back into a war zone every night.

The library was always quiet but never so empty. James got his pick of tables.

Without thought, he chose the one farthest away from all the other tables, but closest to the books. In fact it was nearly boxed in by shelves, only one gap big enough for one person to fit through, at a time.

James never sat here in the daylight. Because it was claimed as a Slytherin table but also because this was where Regulus sat with his friends. Or sat by himself. Or slept between lessons when he thought no one would catch him. Unfortunately for him, James had always had a knack for detecting anyone attempting to be discreet, about anything.

Now, though, the Great Hall was still open and filled with students, the library was empty. As was the table. So James let himself fall into the chair directly across from Regulus’ implied designated seat. No one ever sat there, not unless they wanted a verbal lashing that would surely scar.

James chuckled to himself at the thought, smiling like a loon staring off into space.

His eyes found the chair, he tried to imagine Regulus sitting there. Head bent over an assignment that was given that day, or reading a novel, absentmindedly running the pad of his thumb over his lip. Probably an oral fixation from the smoking.

James couldn’t think about the smoking. Not unless he wanted to run back to his room just to bolt into a very cold shower and try to scrub that one, branded memory from his subconscious.

He was sitting in complete silence with a racing mind before he heard a slight scuffle. A rustle of parchment that was muffled a bit.

James did a once over of his surroundings, upon finding nothing, he knew immediately that he’d fucked up.

He shouldn’t have sat down here, at his table. Knowing that he could be here any minute. But also not taking into account that Regulus still had his cloak.

James was a dunce.

The Gryffindor closed his eyes and sighed a deep, stuttering sigh, embarrassed that he was caught.

“It’s not enough that you’re in the most imperceptible spot in the entire library, but you also felt the need to be invisible while reading?” James spoke quietly but it was still too loud to his own ears.

“Well, I wouldn’t have caught you sneaking into my territory if I was visible. Maybe it was a trap.” Regulus’ voice came from his chair.

Of course, James had been staring right at him without realizing it. How stupid did he look, just sitting here. The boy didn’t even remember to get the books out of his bag to study.

“You caught me, redhanded.” James has to bite back the smile that threatened to crawl up his face. “Is it straight to Azkaban, then? A swift drowning in Black Lake, maybe? Or will Master Regulus have mercy and allow me a fair trial, before chopping my head off?”

There was a pause before a response came. James would bet every bit of coin he had that Regulus was trying to keep a smile out of his voice.

“You are not as funny as you think you are.” Was he a mind reader? Godric, let’s hope not.

James pretended to take personal offense.

“I am hilarious and you know it. You can’t deny it, you think I’m funny.”

“Funny looking, perhaps.”

James scoffed loudly. Suddenly aware of how loud the noise was, he glanced around.

“Is it the glasses? It is, isn’t it?” He was half joking.

“There is nothing wrong with your glasses.”

“Really?” James said, sliding the thick black frames off his face, squinting at them a bit. “Sirius says I should get contacts because the glasses distract from-“

His vocal cords were cut when a cool, soft hand brushed against his fingers, taking the glasses from him.

“Put them back on.”

Regulus mumbled as he slid them back into place.

James could finally see.

Regulus was much closer than before, and the invisibility cloak was gone.

What a beautiful boy, he couldn’t help but think. Breathtaking like a clear night, when the summer stars come out to dance.

“Why?” James whispered.

“Well, one, because you can’t see anything without them. And two,” Black centers were crowding out the grey storm clouds of iris in his gaze, they were close again. Like before. But James could smell him, mint tea and chocolate roses, he wanted to bath in it, drown in it.

If he had the courage, James could reach out and touch. “Without them you’re too…”

“Too…?”

“Bare.” Regulus whispered into the space between them. “Soft, in a sense. It feels too…”

James didn’t press him to continue. He was lost again. The world outside this box of books meant nothing to him, in that moment.

Regulus was such a work of art that James would spend all of his money at the museum where he was displayed, just to come see him every day. He would sit and stare for hours on end. And then, knowing himself, he’d probably steal it.

Something about knowing that the art was looking back at him sent a sharp chill down his spine.

No, they were gazing, not at, but into each other. If eyes are the windows to the soul, each of them were climbing through, desperate to get a glimpse of the other side.

Words did not seem needed any longer. In these empty places, with no one’s prying ears, they seemed to understand it all. Even the unspoken, tiny heartaches both faced each day, never burdened to another.

James Potter had never felt truly seen at any point in his life. His parents knew pieces of him, his friends knew others. The closest anyone ever came to truly taking the time to see him, was Sirius.

His best friend tried his best, he really did, and James loved him for that. It wasn’t his fault that there was still a piece left guarded in the cage of his heart. A big piece, it held everything James never had the nerve to say or even fully think. It held all the darker corners of his ever winding mind. There were places there, he had boarded up the windows and told everyone to stay out of.

There were days in his childhood, that James had blocked out, when things would just go…dark. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t yellow and glittering, welcoming James with a friendly wink.

It was on fire, dripping like candle wax and melting the whole world, eventually, it wasn’t there anymore. A burned out black hole in the sky. James couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that it was still there. His rational mind knew it was, but something else told him, it may never come back, who knows.

Some nights were worse. Nightmares he’d now forgotten, for his own sake, of terrible, cackling creatures in alley ways, a snake far too big to be any normal serpent, and a half formed beast, feasting on the blood of a unicorn, that sparkled in the wretched moonlight.

A voice, screaming out, pleading for him to help. He can’t place the voice, for the life of him. He knows that he needs to help them, there are other shouts and spells flying in the background but always that same small voice begging for him to come get them.

Fear would tear a rip down the center of his chest, as he opened his eyes and couldn’t movea muscle.

He wanted to shout, call for help, cry for his Ma. But he was frozen, staring into the blackness of his bedroom.

When his heartbeat calmed, eventually he regained motor function, and at that point, It didn’t seem worth it to bother his parents about a nightmare. Even a bloody terrifying one. He would hesitantly let himself be pulled back into a deep slumber, hoping for a brighter day tomorrow.

Things cooled down after a few years, especially after his first year at Hogwarts. There were other oddities, like the instinctive magic. The random restless night once in a blue moon, when sleep refused to take him, so James would usually sneak out and take a run in the forest. Hoping either Prongs would sleep for him or hoping to pass the time until sunrise.

Sirius was a piece of James. He was a part of his tribe, his pack. But he had his own troubles, and that darkness only ever graced James’ mind once in a while. When it got too quiet, too still.

Sirius was a ball of energy. The world had a difficult time being quiet or still in his presence, so James didn’t have to worry much.

Maybe, in some fucked up way, it made sense that the only person to ever notice his missing piece was Sirius’ little brother, the embodiment of still and quiet.

In the Hogwarts library, cloaked under the fall of night and concealed by the stories of those who came before, James Potter gave away the last piece of himself that he had to give.

His heart had deemed this beautiful boy, the one.

Regulus was raised to be cold. He was raised to be outwardly neutral and unfeeling, even in the face of pain. A lesson taught by his mother the hard way.

Though, it wasn’t just negative emotions that were filtered out of both her children, it was also their humanity. The care and hope Regulus had for the world around him that threatened to boil him alive in their warmth. The love he held for his friends, the pride he had for his team, even his house, on occasion. The love he felt for his brother.

All of this felt shameful to express in the way everyone else did.

Regulus found his own way, as was his nature.

When the weather allowed, he liked to be outside. Something about being directly under the same sky every day, every night, it comforted him. It made him feel in touch with something bigger, some muggles liked to call it God. Regulus didn’t call it anything, but he knew it was there.

And, when he had a spare minute, he went to Sprout to ask if there was anything he could assist with. While Herbology wasn’t his favorite by any means, he figured it was his way to give back. To a world that had remained by his side so long, even as it grew and changed with the seasons.

He wore extra green, especially on match days, but he did not chant or yell, or, like some of his teammates, relish in the attention for just being on the team. And being a seeker no less.

The only attention he (secretly) cared for was his brother throwing a slick smile at him over breakfast. When it wasn’t Slytherin v. Gryffindor, Sirius would insist that Regulus was going outfly them in the first fifteen minutes.

…and…possibly, on match days, Regulus might notice a certain pair of hazel eyes watching him a little closer. Following him as he gracefully glided across the sky.

James Potter had always brought very intense emotion to the surface. When he was ten, it was resentment and anger that teetered on rage. In his mind, it was James who had taken Sirius away from him, considering that James Potter was the only thing his brother could talk about that first Christmas.

The resentment faded when Regulus joined his brother at Hogwarts, and nothing between them changed. They were still brothers for life, even if Regulus was a Slytherin, even if Sirius and his band of merry men were codependent and couldn’t exist without each other.

So Regulus allowed himself to really see James, when he looked at him.

Big mistake. Huge, colossal mistake.

What he found was worse than the unwarranted anger. James Potter left him stuttering and speechless and sick. It felt akin to having a fever. Regulus would be fine sitting in the library on a day like today, but when James squeezed himself through the gap and sat down at his table, Regulus flushed red. His heart sped uncontrollably and he felt like he was going to empty the contents of his stomach all over the historical fiction section.

This is the problem with James. All of that work Regulus did to be calm, collected, always together. It unraveled at his feet when the older boy so much as looked at him, or was in his vicinity.

He looked happier than last they spoke, which Regulus counted as a personal victory. His lovely brown skin held a golden glow that never dimmed, always burning bright. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, why he chose this precise place to do it, Regulus had no idea.
Or…maybe he had one idea. But that had to be wishful thinking, right?

It didn’t have his name on it or anything but it was an unspoken agreement between Regulus and the rest of the student body; this was his table.

Maybe James came looking for him…

Get yourself together, Black. He mentally scolded himself.

The boy in question suddenly looked right at him, and he froze, heart still pounding away.

James couldn’t see him, but it felt like he could.

The Gryffindor had a little smile playing on his face, eyes glazed over.

Regulus was so mesmerized looking at him, he wasn’t paying attention to how quiet it was. Of course, his fingers fumbling where they were, rustled the pages of his book.

James head swiveled once around the room before sighing.

Regulus was caught. He knew he was.

Things were going as they often did when these serendipitous clandestine meetings were offered to them.

And then James took his glasses off.

He couldn’t do that, not with Regulus here.

In Regulus’ odd way of thinking, his glasses were his guard. His shield. It’s what he takes off every night to sleep, to shower, to do…other things. And puts them back in place every morning before taking on the world.

It’s just intimate. Seeing James without his glasses gave Regulus an ever better view of those dazzling hazel eyes, sparkling at him. They were dangerous. Because Regulus didn’t know what he would find.

He did know there was more to James that everyone else seemed to assume. While James was known to be kind and generous and loud and smart. The best at everything, gorgeous… no one, not even Sirius, saw that something was being hidden from them.

Everyone had things they didn’t tell people, elements of themselves they didn’t allow other’s to lay eyes on, to see the light of day. They could range from incredibly tame to wildly perverse and cruel and ugly. But Regulus found that often, they were sad.

Very sad and very lonely times and circumstances that caused the individual to lock it away in the first place.

Regulus didn’t know if it was some breed of Legilimency or an extension of what happened in the broom cupboard, or if it was something he couldn’t name, would never be able to.

But he was gazing into James Potter’s mind and James was peering back at his. Curious and hungry. Hungry for what? Regulus wasn’t yet aware, but he was desperate to find out.

Turned out, James was starving, for everything. But mostly for knowledge. Knowledge about Regulus was at the forefront but also knowledge about people and wizards and muggles and how all of those things align and divulge. How do wizards have squibs? How do muggles have wizards? Who is deciding these things?
James wanted to know why people had to die, and why they were given life if it would just be snatched away from them. James wanted to know why humans were cursed with things like cancer, or lycanthropy, or nightmares.

Then Regulus fell down a small hole into the vastness of array of darkness. But he did not run, or flinch, or even startle. He was not scared because this was James.

Anything that was James could never scare him away.

What he saw broke his heart.
A little boy, a younger James, terrified and unwilling to ‘burden’ his parents. Staring out the window as if the sky would fall on him any minute.

A pitch black room with small sniffles and pillow-muffled sobs.

Regulus cried for him. For the boy that felt he had nowhere to go as the world was ending around him. At least in his mind, it was. But that was enough.

Suddenly, Regulus was in the air. James was flying. Majestic on his broom, high above the empty quidditch pitch below. He looped and laughed and shined bright with the light of the sun.

A golden snitch whizzed past him and James followed it with his eyes and on his broom. Determination clearly set on his features.

James wanted to be a seeker.

He’d always been a chaser, and was the best on any house team.
Yet, Regulus could see it, now that he knew. He could see James, wicked-fast almost impossible to keep track of with the human eye. He would sit up here, in the clouds and watch, and wait. James could be legendary. Regulus would know.

Regulus fell through the air, but it felt more like floating down.

When he landed he was in the Gryffindor common room, watching James twirl his wand mindlessly, gazing into the fire.

The door opened, Regulus did not look up, but James did.

And his whole demeanor brightened.

Regulus snapped his eyes over to see who entered just as their voices reached his ears.

“Sirius, do we have to do this here?”

“Well, no other Slytherin is likely to see you here of all places. Other than our beloved Dorcas, of course.”

It was them. Regulus, himself and Sirius. But Regulus looked…different.

Not physically different, he was identical to the true version of himself, but something about him seemed to radiate outwards. It was a glow, or a light. Like a silver moon cutting through the treetops.

Regulus couldn’t help but step forward and examine himself as he and Sirius stood there squabbling.

He was practically sparkling in the sun of Gryffindor tower. Not a hair out of place, no dark circles that sometimes appeared. He was happy despite the scowl aimed at his brother.

This is how James saw him. Alight and joyful, unburdened.

Regulus wanted to cry again.

He was sure in that moment, that no one would ever be able to show him anything as special as this ever again.

James had beaten everyone in the race before he even began.

The boy himself sidled up beside him, watching the two brothers go back and forth.

Regulus himself didn’t remember this day, but obviously it meant something to James.

“Sirius, I need you to just butt out on this subject, okay. I can make that particular decision all by myself. I certainly don’t need my big brother doing it for me.”

“I’m just trying to find out who-“

“I know what you’re trying to find out and I’m asking you, just once, to leave it alone.” Regulus was pleading without showing it.
The younger boy turned to James then, seeking help.

“Please, James, tell him to let it go.”

The real Regulus watched as James practically buckled under the weight of his eyes, giving in to his request.

“Come on, Padfoot. Whatever it is, I’m sure Regulus is more than capable of making the right call.”

Two thoughts swirled around and around.

He called me James.

I shouldn’t have said that.

The latter sentiment led Regulus to the marauder’s dorm, he’d just seen earlier than say.

But things were slightly different. Everyone was a bit younger, and Sirius was livid.
His brother was pacing and throwing things into boxes, seemingly cleaning the area around his bed but using it as an excuse to blow off steam in his aggressive movements.

“I can’t believe you just took his side without even knowing- ya know what, it doesn’t matter. From now on, I’m butting out. I love him, he’s my brother, but if he wants to make his own decisions then I’m going to let him. And so are all of you.” He pointed to the room at large, his three roommates blinking back. “Obviously remain friendly, but don’t ask him to join, don’t invite him out, if he wants to go, he’ll decide that himself.”

Sirius was rambling and moving in jerky steps.

Regulus’ attention was pulled from his brother’s dramatics as he looked to James, light dimming ever so slightly.

Well, that’s that. I’ll have to stay away from him. If Sirius found out I sought his brother out on purpose, he would figure it out immediately. I wouldn’t be able to hide it.

Regulus was going to murder his brother in cold blood.

He could forgive the outburst, in a heartbeat. Truthfully, Regulus shouldn’t have worded what he said to his brother, the way he did. He should’ve known Sirius would take it in a way he hadn’t meant it.

But Regulus wasn’t so quick to forget Sirius telling his friends not to invite him out. Even Remus seemed a bit put out at his ‘new rule’. The times they’d studied together before then, usually ended in heated novel discussions and character breakdowns.

Regulus always wondered why they all backed away.

Now he knew, his brother thought he didn’t need him.

He would be clearing that up, immediately, tomorrow probably. As Remus probably had Sirius in a disgusting display of public affection, right about now.

The scene changed once again.

And he was back in the cupboard.

Sat beside himself, which was an odd way to think of it, but it wasn’t unnerving or disconcerting.

This was just a manifestation of himself in James’ mind. He, Regulus Black, had a place in the beautiful brain of James Fleamont Potter, what a thought.

He could see the bruise, even in the dark, it made him flinch a bit.

That had hurt.

James crouched in front of them both.

So beautiful and worried. Worried for Regulus.

He watched as the gorgeous boy healed him, a second time. But this time he felt the anger rising up in James’ throat, though his face only briefly flickered to the emotion upon hearing what Regulus had to say.

How James kept all that rage bottled up, without exploding, he would never know.

The thoughts came rushing in like water.

Whoever committed this atrocity should be thrown in the forest and left to rot.

Who could ever do this to such a beautiful face?

How can I make sure this never happens again?

How do I tell him that I would keep him?

Would he keep me?

Regulus saw, even from here, how unguarded he was with James. Leaning into the touch and thanking him, soaking up the feeling of the sun on his bare skin.

I would keep you forever, if I could. He wanted to say. I would hold you as long as the Earth allowed, until it eventually consumed us, bodies still slotted together, like two puzzle pieces.

Just like that, it was over. Regulus wasn’t traveling through channels and riding the euphoric wave of James Potter’s high, he was back in an unfamiliar chair, in the library.

James was shocked, staring back at him with wide eyes. But Regulus could tell with once glance what was going on behind them.

Adoration and curiosity and confusion and so much. Regulus felt drunk on it. He wanted to feel that way for the rest of his life.

Regulus hoped James wouldn’t run now.

Now that he’d seen…everything.

While Regulus’ consciousness was running around in James’ head, James was flitting around in his.

His memories, his hopes and dreams, his bloody feelings.
All of them, ranging from content with the world to murderous, were…a lot. Too much, in Walburga Black’s opinion.

Where James’ thoughts circled and piled up and jumped back and forth constantly, Regulus’ emotions did the same.

They were left, right, up and then hanging upside down from the trees of his subconscious like a bat.

Yet, no one ever knew. No one could ever tell. Because he was just that good.

Until now. Until James completely baffled him and unearthed him, until he was just bare Regulus.

Did James still want to keep him, now that he truly knew?